


How to Assemble a Shattered Soul

by GlassAlice



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Limbs, Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Team Bonding, Vomiting, Whump, but its there, i don't think its enough to do a full archive warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 11:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18915871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassAlice/pseuds/GlassAlice
Summary: The accident was worse then they thought. There is only so much Altean tech can heal and its limits are not only Lance's legs but also his mind. How can Lance be a paladin of Voltron when he needs his legs to fly his lion? If only there were someone who knew what he was going through that could help him out.





	How to Assemble a Shattered Soul

**Author's Note:**

> I have permission to post this now that the [Whump Zine](https://vldwhumpzine.tumblr.com) is over! This was my piece for it and I got to work with the fantastic Bina who's art is *drools*

“On your left!” Hunk yelled through the coms.

A streak of yellow flashed across Lance’s monitor. He watched as Hunk's lion slammed into an oncoming Galra fighter. One down, two hundred to go. 

"I got your back, buddy," Hunk's voice crackled over the intercom, warm and powerful.

Lance squared his shoulders, forcing his tense muscles to let go. Lance smiled. "Better late than never." 

“Wow, rude. I was not late, I’ll have you know--” The rest of Hunk’s sentence was cut off as Green flew by.

“Less talking, more shooting,” Pidge said, punctuating her statement with a barrage of lasers. 

Try as they might they weren't putting a dent in the Galra’s numbers. As soon as they thinned out one swarm another carrier would arrive. It was like every Galra commander was bored and decided today was a good day to hunt down Voltron. Speak of the devil; a battle cruiser popped out of warp, bay doors opening as fighters poured out like millions of insect legs. 

Lance groaned. "At least wait till we kill off the first batch before sending more!" he cried, pushing hard on his thrusters. Red whipped around, spraying a few fighters with molten fire. Their explosions flashed in a destructive fireworks display.

"Well maybe if you weren't playing with Hunk over there-- Watch out!” Pidge warned not quite in time as twelve ion cannons went off. Their thick beams crackled through the vacuum of space, blinding Lance as he swerved Red out of the way.

"Focus, you need to find an opening so you can form Voltron," Shiro said, his voice steady as he coached the team from the castle.

The com unit grew quiet while everyone concentrated. Lance’s shoulders stiffened and he clenched his jaw. Shiro made everything worse, silence only made Lance more nervous, more distracted. He bit his lip till it bled to keep himself from speaking.

The controls shook in his hand as he pushed Red to her limits. His actions became automatic as he slaughtered Galra after Galra. How long had they been fighting? Minutes? Hours? 

"I'm surrounded," Hunk’s voice came out sharp as if he were trying to squeeze out the words between gasps. Lance recognized it as Hunk’s panicked voice, a false bravado covering fear.

Lance turned Red to see Yellow encircled by a mob of fighters.

"Hunk!" Lance screamed, already throwing Red towards the fray.

If Lance thought back to the exact moment, all he could remember was: Hunk, the bright shimmer of lasers ricocheting off Yellow, and a sharp white light. After that, it was only sound. Explosions, his friend’s cries, and the screech of metal drowned out by Red’s screams as they echoed in his skull. Lance blinked trying to clear his head, longing for any sensation besides noise. Any feeling besides pain.

Slowly, each sensation returned. Brown spots danced on the edge of Lance’s vision as the world came into focus. The sharp smell of coppery blood filled his nose making his stomach lurch. It felt like Zarkon himself decided to chew him up and spit him out. Red’s emergency lights flashed and he squeezed his eyes shut to block them out. Cold sweat pricked over his skin, the only warning before he vomited all over himself. Lance spit then swallowed. Burning acid and fowl slick slid down his throat making him cough and wrench again.

Hissing made Lance look up, he saw open space where Red’s front leg should be. The surrounding metal was twisted and gnarled like a shredded tin can. He stared at the hole as his brain tried to comprehend what he was seeing. Atmosphere poured out instead of blood and wires sparked in place of braided sinew. He shook his head. It was all _wrong_.

Lance tugged on the seat belt, hands shaking as he fumbled with the latch. ‘ _You need to cut yourself out_ ’, his brain told him methodically. He tried to summon his bayard but nothing happened. His hand remained empty. There were scissors in the emergency kit, but it was in a hidden panel above the pilot seat; if he could... just... reach it. Lance stretched his fingers out brushing against the latch. His fingernails scratched the surface with a scritch that made his teeth grind. 

The latch unhooked and the panel slid open allowing the kit to float free. He snatched it out of the air and dug through it, pulling out a pair of shears. He cut himself free but didn’t go far. That was when he realized his legs were pinned under the control panel. 

He looked down in confusion. The panel was ripped from the floor and lay sideways over his lap. He couldn’t see his legs but he could see the blood. It was everywhere. How had he not noticed? The nausea came back in full force. This couldn’t be his body. No. This wasn’t happening. 

Lance let out a puff of air through his nose that grew into a self deprecating laugh. His legs were pinned under his lion’s console. Just what he needed. He tried kicking and pushing it, anything to get it off. He screamed through his laughter with each failed attempt. Lance was stuck. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving and spots dancing in front of his eyes. Tears drifted away from him, floating toward the vacuum of space. The metal that pinned him in place also saved him from being sucked to his death.

The air grew thin and Lance’s breathing edged on hyperventilation. Where was his helmet? He craned his neck but it was nowhere to be seen. It must have fallen off during the crash and was sucked out the hole\\. Without his helmet his time was limited. 

He could feel Red’s faint flicker in the back of his mind. She was dying, Lance thought with sudden realization. He was dying. 

“Lance!”

He tried to open his eyes. Someone was calling him. Or was it his imagination?

Red’s faint presence vanished, as if someone turned off a lightbulb in Lance’s soul. He was completely alone for the first time since that fateful day he joined Voltron. A scream boiled up as the overwhelming void where Red once was overtook him.

All went black.

-=-

Cold liquid drained from the healing pod and Lance felt himself pitch over into strong arms. He blinked into long strands of black hair. “Keith? Where am I? Why are you holding me?” His brain felt like mashed potatoes and his body felt like boiled carrots. Overdone and soggy.

“Guys! Everyone, Lance is awake! Coran! Hurry!” Keith yelled, very close to Lance’s ear.

“Keith, my ears, dude.” Lance squirmed trying to push away but Keith’s arms were like iron around him. “Hey, I’m fine. You can let go.”

Hair whipped into Lance’s face as Keith shook his head, his grip only tightening. Lance wheezed as the air was squeezed from his lungs. He opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by the whole team tumbling into the medical room.

A chorus of ‘Lance’ at different intervals greeted him. Coran broke away from the group and motioned at the table in the middle of the room. Lance tried to take a step forward but something was wrong. Keith hefted him up and placed him on the table. Everything was slow and detached, as if it was all happening to someone else. 

As soon as his butt touched the table, he knew. Pain shot through his spine, legs aching. No. This was a dream, a nightmare. Lance pressed his palms into his eyes, watching stars flash behind his lids.

“Lance,” Coran’s voice was heavy as he spoke. “I’m afraid there’s been severe damage since the battle. What do you remember?”

He shook his head. He could barely hear Coran over the ringing in his ears. 

“I.” Lance swallowed, his mouth dry. “Red, she. Everything.” He was shaking. “Everything was broken. I’m--” A hiccup interrupted him and he realized he was crying. ‘ _I’m broken_ ,’ he finished silently.

“Lance. You were pinned under Red’s console. The pressure was keeping you together but once it was removed…” Coran trailed off, but Allura picked up the unfinished sentence.

“You sustained too much damage. Coran did everything he could. I’m sorry, but in the end, we couldn’t save your legs.”

Air whooshed out of his lungs. This wasn’t real.

“We’re so sorry.”

Coran put a hand on his shoulder and Lance opened his eyes automatically at the touch. There, in front of him, was the truth he didn’t want to see. What was left of his legs came to an abrupt halt five inches from his hip.

Reaching out a tentative hand, he swiped the space where his knee should be bent over the table edge. Nothing was there, but it _hurt_.

“I can’t imagine what this is like for you. We’ll do everything we can to help. Pidge and Hunk were working with Shiro on creating a new pair of legs for you while you recovered. They’ll be ready--”

Lance cut Allura off, “And Red?” 

Coran answered for her, “Allura is trying everything she can, but Red hasn’t come online.”  
Lance nodded. He felt light headed and that ringing in his ears was only getting louder. “I need to-- I need to go.” He tried to hop down, forgetting there were no legs to catch him.

Keith grabbed Lance before he fell, sweeping him into his arms like a princess. “I’ll take him to his room,” he said matter-of-factly. No one argued. 

Lance felt like a child as Keith carried him. They didn’t speak a word to each other until Keith placed him in his bed. “Do you want me to get your pajamas?”

He only nodded a reply. How could he be in so much pain and feel so numb at the same time? If only he could disappear, or turn back time or--

Keith held the pajamas to his face. He looked like he wanted to say something else but Lance ignored him. He didn’t feel like talking. Keith sighed and turned to leave, pausing at the door. “I’m here if you need me. I mean everyone is. But, you should talk to Shiro. He...” There was a long pause before Keith continued, “He knows what it’s like.” And with that the doors slid shut, leaving Lance all by himself.

A choked sob turned into yelling. Lance cursed the war; cursed the Galra for starting it and Allura for dragging him into it. Into this battle that wasn't his. This battle that took a piece of him away. It was already stealing his youth but that wasn't good enough for the universe. It wasn’t enough that he’d never go to prom or graduate with his friends or ever be a normal teenager again.  
No. It had to cut him in half. Corrupt him body and soul. 

Fat tears rolled down his face. The molten rage inside him slowly turned to stone as despair’s cold fingers crept over him. It stilled his fists and crumpled him to the bed. He was crushed under its weight as it sunk deeper into his bones. Bit by bit his body turned to lead. Nothing would ever be the same. A piece of him, a piece of his life, was gone forever. He closed his eyes against the world.

-=-

Lance spent weeks in his room. The others visited occasionally, updating him about what was going on with the war, Red, and his new legs. The only person who hadn’t visited was Shiro. Lance didn’t mind. He was happy to avoid that conversation. Well, that was until now.

Shiro stood in his doorframe, bashful eyes cast down to the floor. “Hey, sharpshooter. How ya’ doing?”

“Just peachy.” Lance pushed himself to sitting. His knees ached from laying in bed all day. He reached down to massage them and his hand hit mattress. Right, he didn’t have knees. Lance could feel his cheeks burn. He tried to hide the action by straightening out the sheets. 

“Can I come in? I want to talk.”

Lance sighed but nodded; the faster this was over the better. 

The bed dipped with Shiro’s weight. “Look, I know what you’re going through. I understand.”

Lance bit his lip to keep from talking back. Shiro was trying to help; just because losing both your legs and losing one arm were nothing alike didn’t mean Lance couldn’t be nice. “Thanks, Shiro. I’m fine. Now you can tell everyone you’ve checked in on me.”

“I’m not done,” Shiro said in his black paladin voice. “Your new legs are finished. Pidge and Hunk are doing the final tests right now. I came here to tell you that I was going to train you. I’m not a physical therapist by a long shot, but I know what it's like to learn how to use a prosthetic.”

Lance didn’t say anything, his head rushing with thoughts that drowned out Shiro’s calm voice. A metal hand came down on his shoulder and he looked up. “Yeah, sure. Sounds great.”

Shiro nodded and excused himself. 

An hour later Hunk and Pidge burst through his door, each holding a robotic leg.

-=-

Pidge was in the middle of collaborating his left leg when he felt it. Red was back. Coran bounded into the room moments later.

“Red is online.”

“I know.” Lance tried to stand, only to be pushed down by Pidge. 

“I’m not done. Sit. Stay.”

“I’m not a dog,” Lance said, crossing his arms.

Pidge shrugged. “It worked didn’t it?”

Lance stuck out his tongue, but sat still until she was done.

It took ten more minutes until Pidge set him free. Hunk lent his shoulder and Lance stood for the first time since losing his legs. Sweat dripped off him with the effort it took to stand. The stumps of his legs hurt like hell. Hunk was truly the only thing keeping him upright. Lance shook like a newborn deer and dug his fingers into Hunk’s biceps. 

Then, he remembered Red. Lance turned to run. His feet tangled together and he slammed nose-first into the ground.

Pidge winced, bending down to help him back up. “Woah, careful. You need to learn how to walk again. It’s going to take time.”

“But, Red.” They didn’t understand, he needed to get to his lion. Now.

“Okay, buddy. I’ll give you a lift, hop on.” Hunk bent, offering a piggyback.

Lance wrapped his arms around Hunk, hanging off him a few inches above the ground. He tried to bring his legs up and around Hunk’s middle. Unfortunately, he wasn’t used to the fast reaction time of his prosthetic and kicked Hunk in the shin. 

“Sorry, sorry. A little help here?” He looked at Pidge, batting his eyes.

“Fine.” She huffed, but helped Lance work his legs around Hunk.

With Hunk’s help Lance was in the hanger in no time flat. Red’s presence filled his whole heart and raidedated through his soul. “Take me up there,” Lance whispered in awe.

Red opened her mouth, granting both paladins entrance. Hunk sat him down in the pilot chair and Lance closed his eyes. The memories from the battle sat at the edge of his mind, overlapping themselves with reality. Coran and Allura had done a wonderful job, Red looked brand new. He shook off the bad memories and grabbed the thrusters. He could feel Red egging him on, they both wanted to go for a joy ride. He smiled and pressed hard on the peddle. 

Lance’s leg overshot and kicked the panel. He tried again and hit the pedal. They flew into space more like a bumbling bumble bee then a paladin of Voltron. 

Lance couldn’t control Red at her highspeeds without jerking her back and forth. His legs pressed too hard on the controls and then not hard enough. Hunk was looking as ill as he had on their first lion ride. Even Red was side eyeing him in a weird mystical lion kind of way. Lance slammed on the break causing Hunk to fly forward. He was only saved by his white knuckled grip on the pilot chair.

“Fly us back, Hunk.”

“But we just left.”

Lance shook his head. “I can’t control her, just, take us back for me. Okay?”

Hunk nodded and helped Lance up. Red flew back mostly on autopilot not allowing the Yellow paladin to tell her what to do. 

He was a failure. He couldn’t fly Red and that meant they couldn’t form Voltron.

That didn’t stop Lance from ditching Shiro and his useless physical therapy lessons, but who could blame him? Training with Red was more important than physical therapy. He had to pilot Red, everyone was counting on him, waiting for him, judging him. He gripped the wall as he shuffled down the hall on wobbly legs, each step sending pins and needles up his spine.

Lance made it to the hanger. Red’s mouth opened automatically and he sighed in relief. The small voice in the back of his head that always whispered, ‘Today Red will reject you’ was wrong one more time. How long that would last, Lance didn’t know. 

He grabbed the controls and Red glowed to life. “C’mon, girl,” Lance said, flying Red out the hanger door. 

His foot slipped and Red dropped, spiraling down to one of the Castle Ship’s spires. Lance pulled up on the controls just in time. “That was close.” Pulling on one handle he brought Red into a wide curve and tried again. This time Red spun in a perfect arc. “That’s right, we got this.” He ran through the drills, weaving Red back and forth, drawing his jaw blade, and spitting fire at nothing. Everything was going fine. 

Then Lance’s leg cramped, crushing pain paralyzed his whole body. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move. Red flew at lightning speed off into the black of space. “Red! Stop!” Lance pleaded but Red ignored him. He could feel her joy at being let free.

“Lance!” Shiro’s commanding voice cracked through the coms. “Return to base, now.”

Lance caught himself flinching and thanked Red for keeping visuals off. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” 

“I’m stuck. I don’t know what’s happening but it hurts and Red won’t listen to me.”

“Dammit.” Was the last thing he heard before the coms went dead. Lance tried to calm his breathing, hoping that the phantom leg pain would go away on its own. It didn’t.

Black roared. She was too slow to catch up to red, but she was the leader for a reason. Red halted, coming to a dead stop and Lance screamed as his body was thrown against his seatbelt. The pain felt like millions of thunderbolts shooting through him. 

Lance heard metal on metal and looked out to see Black’s jaws. He could be wrong, but it looked like Black was carrying Red by her scruff. It would’ve been cute if he wasn’t in the worst pain since the accident. 

It took a lot longer to return then it did for Red to fly them into middle of nowhere. The pain in his body subsided into a dull throb and Lance was able to move. As the pain let up, Lance realized that Shiro hadn’t spoken their whole return trip. Worry settled in his stomach and he wished he could hide forever inside Red.

The bay doors opened and Black set Red down before landing herself. Moments later Shiro was standing inside Red looking down at Lance.

“What was that? You were supposed to be at therapy, you nearly got yourself stranded.”

Lance winced. “I was just trying to practice.” 

Shiro sighed. “Look, Lance. I know things haven’t been easy recently, with your...” Lance’s eyes flashed a warning and Shiro cleared his throat, a slight blush blooming around his ears. “What I’m trying to say is that I understand what you’re going through.” He nodded down to his own mechanical arm. “I know what it's like to lose a part of yourself, but--”

Lance unlocked his seatbelt and stood up, ignoring the pain in his legs. He cut Shiro off. “I get what you’re trying to do here Shiro, but it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same. You don’t get it,” he said, voice cracking. Lance clamped his mouth shut to stop the words from spilling out. Tears stung the back of his eyes and Lance blinked hard, pushing his feelings down. 

“Lance,” Shiro said, his tone chiding. “You can’t keep running from this. You’re going to have to face reality.”

“Shut up!” Lance covered his ears to block out Shiro’s voice, his concern, his pity. He didn’t need a pep talk from the perfect paladin of Voltron. Not when he, himself, was so useless. Not when he was so pathetic in comparison. “I don’t want to hear it, Shiro! Just, leave me alone!” He had to get out. He had to leave before everyone-- before Shiro could see. Because Lance was sure that it was visible. That the cracked fragments of his soul were on display under the microscope of Shiro’s eyes.

“You don’t look so good,” Shiro stepped forward, one hand held out between them.

Lance scoffed as he looked up, eyes locking with his superior. He shook his head, taking a stumbling step back. His new legs betrayed him; he tried to grab at the console to steady himself but missed, crashing to the ground. Shame ran hot down his neck and his cheeks blazed with embarrassment. “Go away,” he whispered. “Please.” 

Silence stretched between them like a vast chasm. The idea of Shiro leaving him crumpled inside his lion turned his insides to stone, but if Shiro stayed-- God, if Shiro stayed it might be even worse. He refused to look up at the pity in Shiro’s eyes. Too scared to look up and too scared to leave, Lance froze-- unmoving as glass and equally as fragile. 

Shiro’s hand fell heavy on his shoulder and Lance felt himself crack around the impact. The shards of himself that he’d carefully glued together with excuses and denial came crumbling down around him. The world blurred as tears fell from his eyes. They splashed against his prosthetic legs with a soft pitter-patter. “Please, Shiro. Go,” he begged, voice cracking.

“I’m not leaving you.” 

Lance forced out a strangled, “Why?” Slumping forward, his forehead fell with a dull thunk on Shiro’s shoulder. 

Strong arms wrapped around him with an, ‘ _Oh, Lance_ ’ and he melted into the embrace. The chill of Shiro’s metal arm sent a trail of goosebumps down his spine but Shiro’s strength seeped into the sinew of his muscles. Lance let himself go. He couldn’t control the deluge as he sobbed. Tears spilled out like shards of glass that cut him as they fell. 

Shiro rubbed soothing circles on his back and didn’t pull away when Lance’s snot and tears soaked through his shirt. Lance cried and cursed until he was empty. Until there was nothing left inside him. Still, Shiro continued to stroke his hair and whisper soft words of comfort as his hiccups slowed down. 

“Why?” Lance croaked. “Why are you even trying? I’m not worth it.” Lance shook his head.

Shiro sat back until they were eye to eye, hands gripping Lance’s shoulders. “You _are_ worth it. You’ve always been worth any trouble and you always will be. And I’m trying because you’re stronger than this. You’re stronger than a couple of lost legs. You’ll get through this and I’ll be with you every step of the way. I know you’ll get through this because I got through it, and you’re much stronger than I could ever be.”

Lance snorted, a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, right.”

Shiro shook him, wiping the smirk off his face. “You _are_ stronger. I can see it, and it’s time someone helped you see it too.”

Lance frowned, quirking an eyebrow at Shiro.

Shiro smiled in return. “One step at a time. Literally. C’mon, get up. Let’s get you back to your room.” He stood up, holding out a hand for Lance.

“And then what?”

“And then you get up tomorrow, have breakfast, then we train. You’ll learn to use your legs. Then you do it the next day, and the next. Every day until you don’t even think about it. You’ll learn to live with it.”

“You’re making it sound easy.”

“It won't be, it’ll hurt. It’ll be hard and there’ll be days you don’t want to get up, days where staying in bed would just be so much easier. But you won’t, because you’re strong. And when you need someone to give you that extra push, I’ll be banging down your door.”

Lance giggled. Actually giggled. The laughter vibrated through him and filled the hole that’d left him hollow, chipped away at the stone that seemed to have replaced his bones, and gave him a moment of freedom. Shiro was crazy. But, Lance liked this brand of crazy because now he believed it might be possible. If Shiro could use his arm so well then maybe Lance…

He reached out and took Shiro’s hand. “You better not go back on your word,” Lance said as he was pulled to his feet.

“Never.” Shiro smiled, looping Lance’s arm around his broad shoulders. 

Lance returned the smile. Then, sweeping his arm out in front of them, he bowed slightly on his shaky legs. “Lead the way.”

Shiro hobbled them to Lance’s room and left him to his thoughts with a short goodbye.

Pulling his legs to his chest, Lance wrapped lanky arms around cold steel. “You’re crazy,” he told himself. He thought back to Shiro's almost manic pep talk and couldn’t help the smile that wound itself across his face. “But you’re done feeling sorry for yourself, time to be the Red Paladin of Voltron you’re supposed to be.”

Lance pulled the sheets to his chin as he settled down for bed. Tomorrow would be the start of an adventure. The adventure of cyborg Lance. He fell asleep with a half-sarcastic smile.

-=-

“Get up!”

Lance shot out of bed, his heart pounding. “What the?” His eyes darted around the room before falling on Shiro in his doorway. “You gave me a heart attack! What are you doing at…” He looked over at the time on his phone. “Five in the quizznacking morning. I’m going back to bed.” Lance said, throwing the covers over his face.

“Nope. None of that,” Shiro said, stepping into the room. “It's time for physical therapy. You’ve been ditching and I’m here to make sure you go, so, up and at ‘em”

Lance groaned. “You’re worse than my mom on picture day.”

“No one is worse than anyone’s mom on picture day. Now get out of bed.” Shiro pulled the covers off Lance.

Lance squeaked and grabbed at the covers in vain. “Fine. Fine, you absolute horror. Now, get out so I can change.”

Shiro laughed and threw the blankets over his shoulder as he left. “Okay, but I’m taking these with me as hostage.” The room doors slid shut. 

Lance pulled his hands down his face with a groan. “What did I get myself into?” He asked, but couldn’t help his smile.

-=-

Six months later Lance flew red into battle for the first time since the incident. They still couldn’t form Voltron, but he was able to hold his own. With the destruction of fifty Galra fighters and the killing blow on the cruiser under his belt; Lance felt like a king. He strode into the common area and flung his leg over the back of the couch as he flopped down. He stretched with a loud yawn as the other paladins filled the room.

Pidge pushed his leg off. “Make room for everyone.”

Lance lifted both legs in the air and flipped so his head hung off the cushions and both legs rested against the back. 

“Whatever. Sit like a weirdo if you want.” Pidge said, plopping down on the other end. 

“Don’t be jealous just because you have normal human legs and I’m a cool cyborg like Shiro,” Lance sing-songed.

“I’m not a cyborg,” Shiro chided as he entered the room followed by Allura and Hunk. 

“Well _I_ am, so try to contain your jealousy.”

“We had cyborgs on Altea,” Coran said, stepping into the middle of the room. “We used to them to make cooked panloaf”

Hunk cocked his head. “I think that’s more like an Earth toaster.”

“I’m kinda jealous,” Keith piped up from the corner. 

All heads whipped around, including Lance’s that peaked up from the couch, still red from being upside down, to stare at Keith.

Keith shrugged. “Well I am, its kinda cool.”

Lance flipped around and put on his best Loverboy Lance smile. “I _am_ pretty cool.”

Throwing his arms in the air, Keith turned away from the group. “Never mind. Now I regret it. Forget what I said.” 

“Nuh-uh. You said I was cool. You can’t take it back.”

“I said your legs are _kinda_ cool.”

“No need to be embarrassed, Keith,” said Allura, “Altean tech is pretty, what do you say on earth? Lit?”

Pidge snickered behind her hand and Hunk hid his laugh behind a cough. Lance rolled with it. “Yeah, my legs are lit! High five, Allura!” Lance held up his hand and Allura looked at him, his hand, and then over at Shiro. “Is this one of your earth customs?”

Shiro smiled, high-fiving Lance. “Yeah, and it’s rude to leave someone hanging.” 

“You’re a bro.” Lance grinned and shook his tingling hand. Damn, Shiro was strong. 

Shiro laughed, sitting beside him and clapping him on the back. He bumped Shiro’s shoulder in reply.

Lance looked down at his legs. It took months of hard work to get the control over them that he had now, though, he wasn’t sure if they’d ever have the grace of his own legs. Nevertheless, he’d done it. He woke up and faced each day no matter how he ached or how much he’d wanted to cry in his own self pity.

He wouldn’t have been able to do that without Shiro. They’d become close friends over the past months. Shiro became someone that knew his struggles first hand and could be there for him. If he could travel back in time and prevent the accident that stole his legs from happening, would he? Yeah, probably. Would he give up this new closeness with Shiro and this ability to understand him in ways no one else could? He wasn’t so sure. But, what he did know was that he’d proven to himself time and again that he was strong enough to live with what happened. And when he wasn’t, he had someone he could rely on. 

Lance leaned back on the armrest and threw his leg behind Shiro’s head, draping it over the couch again. 

Well, then. He could live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! I hope you liked it! This isn't the same version that was put in the Zine, only people who bought the Zine will have the original version. 
> 
> I thrive on comments!! they push me to write more!! all tears are donated to my whumpicorn who lives on your sweet sweet pain and then uses that energy to give me more horrible ideas to write. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Hit me up on Tumblr!](http://yuzuling.tumblr.com)


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